


To Babylon

by phoenixmirage



Series: To the Promised Land [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII, Dirge of Cerberus: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Role Reversal, SOLDIER!Cloud, Slow Burn, Turk!Cloud - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-26 13:45:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6241675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixmirage/pseuds/phoenixmirage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bastard, they called him. <i>Whore</i> - they slurred his mother. Tired of the endless abuse at Nibelheim, nine year old Cloud Strife runs away from home to Midgar with dreams of becoming a hero: someone worthy, no, <i>demanding</i> of respect. He had never quite intended for it all to come to this. </p><p>[Or, the AU where Cloud never quite worshiped Sephiroth but became an experiment anyways and the ensuing series of unfortunate events leads to the making of a very different villain.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: World's End Dominion

**Author's Note:**

> This AU-divergence will mainly be done as a trilogy split with oneshots on the side to fill in the worldverse further. Hoping to finish the first part before the Remake happens!

_"Zack."_ _Sephiroth's voice is deadly quiet. "Run. And do not look back."_

_"I-" Protests his lieutenant. "-but, Seph-"_

_"That's an **order**." He almost barks. "Fair, comply-"_

_An explosion rocks the entrance of the mako chamber they had taken refuge in. There's the shattering of glass and liquid mako draining to the ground. They hush immediately, holding their breaths. Light footsteps filter in - the gentle sounds of the heel of boots against cold stone - and their enhanced hearing could catch the barest hints of a soft laugh._

_"Ehh, so that's where you two were?"_

_The thing had the appearance, and more awfully - the voice of their friend._

_"That's not very nice. I never did like Hide and Seek."_

_But it wasn't Cloud Strife - no, when the monster at the heart of the reactor disintegrated and the phantom screams in his head melded with Cloud's own before finally subsiding, he had watched with Zack in helpless horror as the aura about the other First turned polluted when the parasite merged: dark and malevolent, almost like the very monsters they had so often taken down together as a team..._

_He suppresses the urge to shiver. Would that have been his fate had **he** been there first, instead? Similar poisonous thoughts had admittedly crept about his mind in the library until Zack broke down the door, decrying the awful atrocity that had just occurred. Nibelheim in flames - and everyone above-ground, dead. More unbelievably, at the hands of Cloud._

_He raises Masamune to stance._ _This was no time for doubt: it was up to him that Zack leaves this place in one piece and report back that whatever the contaminant was, it apparently had a near instantaneous degradation effect on SOLDIERs._

 **_But that wasn't quite true, was it?_ ** _Zack had not been adversely affected when they came to this remote mountain town, not even as they drew closer in proximity to the reactor core. The only ones afflicted were him ... and Cloud. Shit, he knew Cloud had disliked his hometown but the other had also loved and adored life._

_Never in a hundred-thousand years, would Sephiroth have expected the other to kill everyone and set Nibelheim ablaze._

_"I'm not going to hurt you two." The voice says with almost innocent hurt. "Y-you ... you guys are not them..."_

_And he had decidedly enough. Influencing Cloud to commit atrocities was one matter - but that thing, that monster, was going to pretend to be Cloud too?_

_It was an instant that he steps from their hiding place. Another, that he closes the distance, and with a tall-tale hum in the air Masamune meets the blunt side of Cloud's fusion blade. The more violent contest of strength begins._

_"Lieutenant." He barks. " **Now!** "_

_That seems to waken the other from his stupor and without another word - thankfully - Zack runs._

_Sephiroth's brows furrow as Cloud's face turned feral. He breaks contact first, drawing back, and slowly they circle each other. Swords poised - surveying. A predator's gaze, settling upon another predator's - mirroring slitted eyes dark and angry._

_"Seph-" Coos the other, and Cloud's face returns to a mask of a faux smile. "That ... really wasn't very nice."_

_"Be quiet." He says simply, lifting Masamune. "You can stop pretending. I heard your voice too."_

_And he lunges._

_Their duel carves up entire sections of the reactor and obliterates much more._

_Sephiroth could only sincerely hope that Zack had made well enough a starting distance..._


	2. Chapter 1: The Plate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was a boy, and there was a girl. And before long, there formed the beginnings to a story.

For Tseng, it was supposed to be a simple coffee break. But on his return, a collision with a thin body – compounded by the rude feeling of something leaving his back pocket – leaves him gaping for a long moment at the back of the street urchin that had the gall to make off with his wallet.

 

His PHS’ alarm goes off. He silences it with a forceful thumb and pushes through the thickening crowds with his free hand. He’s going to give chase, of course. Late or not, he’ll need his things back: what else was he going to tell Veld, that all his card keys were snatched by a child from the slums?

 

It was easy enough to follow the shock of golden hair: bright even though noticeably dirty. Tseng would like to contend that he was not being petty in his current relentless pursuit of a child through the descending sectors and down the Plate. Shiva, that child could certainly _run_ , and the Turk could’ve sworn the small body was only being fueled to go even faster out of sheer stubborn iron will. The boy definitely knew he was being followed: why else would he move like a hurricane and navigate like one too? Perhaps the boy would’ve even successfully shaken his pursuer off had Tseng not made a career out of tailing.

 

What was more surprising had been the angry blue eyes that stared balefully up at him when Tseng finally apprehended and wrestled down the culprit roughly to the ground. No, it was not just the eyes, but the fair hair and aquiline features of the face that stopped him in sheer surprise: features that were very much like –

 

He was forced to partially relinquish the boy as the other clamps down on his dominant hand, hard. Tseng could feel his patience wear thin as he nursed the injury. The mental comparison from before only reinforced.

 

_– Vice President in his brattier early days._

 

He pins the boy with renewed fervor, pressing down even more weight this time with his knees.

 

“Stop.” Tseng’s voice is low with irritation, not so subtlely threatening. “Don’t make me shoot you.”

 

That, thankfully, was apparently motivation enough for the boy to cease his struggles.

 

_Or so he thought._

 

Tseng had not expected a hard skull to ram full into his face: he is seeing stars in another moment and left clutching his nose as the little monster lost no time at all in making a quick escape. There was the dripping sensation of liquid from his nose and at the taste of metallic copper on his mouth the Turk softly swore. Had his jaw not felt relatively unhinged too, he would’ve scowled.

 

_This is disgraceful, really._

 

* * *

 

Cloud dared not to breathe a sigh of relief until he was behind closed doors and the latch was safely pulled into place. Today was certainly a bit more excitement than most other days: he hadn’t counted on this one to be _that_ persistent. Good grief, most would give up the chase after two sectors or so but this one had almost followed him straight down the Plate.

 

“I would say welcome home … but you were probably up to no good, huh.”

 

He nearly jumps out of his skin.

 

“A-Aerith…” He mutters, trying hard not to sound too sheepish as he turned. “…uh, you’re back early.”

 

Aerith, primly seated at the dining table, had stopped in the middle of her knitting and gives him a long, hard look. Her tone was equally disapproving when she continues:

 

“Cloud… Were you _stealing_ again?”

 

He purses his lips. He knows how she felt about taking other people’s things.

 

“It was someone from ShinRa.” He defends quickly. “They have gil to spare.”

 

A flash of something passes her eyes at the mention of ShinRa. The floor boards creak as the chair legs pull back and with light footsteps, she draws closer. Her fingers lightly cup his chin, tilting his face up, left, right to look. Near three years his senior, she was taller than him and he sulks more when her frown turns worried.

 

“Gaia … you’re hurt.”

 

It was near accusing, that tone. He stiffens: a clear refusal on his part to tell more. Aerith knew the younger boy’s special brand of defiance when she saw it too, and after a long moment, she sighs – withdrawing gradually.

 

“Won’t you stop? Mother and I can take of everything, really.” Her distress was tangible.

 

He knows that they can – Auntie Elmyra and Aerith both. But they took care of him now, even though before him Auntie had troubles enough feeding just two. So what was wrong about wanting to help? Auntie and Aerith shouldn’t have to fix scarves and sweaters until their hands were bruised from long hours at the needle. His face must’ve said too much, because with a tiny laugh, Aerith brushes her fingers against his injured temple again. The pain fades – vanishing as if it had never been there at all.

 

“You don’t need to grow _that_ quickly, you know.” She murmurs.  

 

He clings to her. But he wants to grow quickly, he wants to protest. He wants to grow, bigger and stronger – find an honest job like Aerith prefers: he honest to Gaia does. Before, he had planned to enter ShinRa’s Academy program as soon as he turned old enough (what other work would pay enough gil?) but Aeirth had hated the idea so much she wouldn’t even talk to him. Not even a day into the disagreement, he had surrendered, hating to see her angry more than anything. They hadn’t broached the topic since then.

 

“Mother will be home soon.” Aerith soothes, serene as always, as she threads gentle fingers in his hair. “She’ll make stew – your favorite.” She adds, almost teasing. “Not quite like the north’s way, I’m sure, but she was going to bring home some scraps of spices today.”

 

He looks up, brightening. Spices? Now _that_ was a rare treat.

 

“Can we look at what that ShinRa had on him first?”

 

She sighs, shaking her head, but this time as Aerith pulled away Cloud caught the faintest hints of a smile.

 

* * *

 

“How stingy, he barely had any gil!” He complains as he tosses the emptied wallet unceremoniously on the table. Aerith at her seat muffles a laugh as she affixes another thread into a patterned knot on the sweater she had been slowly but steadily forming.

 

“I’m not surprised.” She says, at length.

 

“What?” He drops into the chair next to her, looking at her with wide eyes. “Why?”

 

“They have that credit system, no? One of those cards is probably for making transactions.”

 

Cloud peers at the multiple black cards lying on the table. He turns one over.

 

 _This is gil?_  He frowns. Gil equivalent?

 

“They look the same to me.” He announces.

 

“Not their edges.”

 

He looks again, more intently this time. She was right: their frames were indeed variably different even if at a glance all the cards appeared awfully uniform. The edges were painted either silver or gold, and the smaller breaks of squares made them look almost like card chips. Pretty fine work, actually.

 

An idea came to mind.

  
“They’re worth something, right?”

 

“Yes, probably, to the poor man you likely made sick with worry at their loss.”

 

He pouts and this time, she laughs heartily, at the boy that had become not unlike an energetic little brother.

 

“But I mean-“

 

“No.” She replies, without a moment’s longer consideration. “These should be disposed of.” The quicker the better, Aerith wants to add, but catches herself. Cloud didn’t need to know how dangerous that company was – not yet, and if she had her way, preferably never.

 

She watches him huff in answer.

 

“Ok, ok.” He mumbles as he gathers the cards into his small hands. “I’ll rid them.”

 

She frowns, as that didn’t feel quite like a truth. But too late – before she could say anything further, he was racing for the door again.

 

“See you later, Aerith!” The door swings shut behind his petite form.

 

She looks to her needlework. This was such an ordinary situation, Cloud in another one of his whimful moods.

 

_Then why was she at such unease?_

 

“Please take care of him, Gaia.” She murmurs to the empty house.

 

* * *

 

“What by Shiva is this supposed to be?”

 

The storekeeper turns one of the black cards in his generous hand, surveying it with steady suspicion.

 

“I told you,” Cloud lies smoothly. “It’s an information drive.”

 

“Never seen one of these before.”

 

“Course not.” Years of practice had taught Cloud to keep his voice down even pat. “It’s a model that goes around only above the Plate. Down here as even recycling materials, you can definitely resell that and get a good value still from those aspiring engineering geeks.”

 

“This came from the upper Plate? Just where did you-“

 

Cloud places a finger against his lips, smiling slightly.

 

“Un-uh. That’s for the seller to know, sir.” It was one of the unspoken rules of the bartering exchange after all: no questions asked.

 

Cloud watches as the man swallows. Close, he was very close and only had to be patient now.

 

“Twenty gil.” Says the storekeeper finally. “Each.”

 

“Sixty.” He pushes instead.

 

“Thirty gil.”

 

“ _Fifty._ ”

 

The keeper scowls, double chin swaying slightly with the movement.

  
“Thirty-five. That’s my best offer, kid.”

 

“Forty.” Came the steely reply. “Take it or leave it.”

 

The man splutters. “I can’t give you forty for something I don’t know the market value-”

 

A golden brow raises.

 

“You know very well this has more value than forty.” He argues.

 

For a long moment, both held their gaze.

 

“I could always go to Burton’s down the block.” Cloud adds helpfully, before giving his most disarming smile. “But I do prefer Uncle’s as a longtime, loyal customer.”

 

“Ok.” The storekeeper throws up his hands. “Ok! Take your gil!”

 

Cloud leaves two-hundred gil richer and feeling quite happy.

 

* * *

 

Veld had sounded concerned over the PHS when Tseng abruptly called out the rest of the day sick. The younger Turk had kept the conversation to under a minute: clinical, professional … used a Cure and then promptly cut his boss from the line as he resumed to hunting for the target. All Tseng needed to know was that the boy definitely lived here – it didn’t matter how large the Plate was, by the Goddess he was going to find the boy if it was the last thing he did.

 

He tried not to let his face betray any disgust as the slum-dwellers passed him. Tseng knows how out of place he must’ve looked down here: suit neatly pressed, shoes shined, only slightly dirtied from the scuffle earlier he stood out from the locals like night to day.

 

As fortunes would have it, after two hours of fruitless wandering, he spots again that crop of golden hair. The boy stops to drop some coins from his hand into a beggar-woman’s bowl.

 

Despite himself, Tseng is curious, and rather than announcing himself to the little thief he follows: cautiously this time – at a fair enough distance. The child seemed to have an uncanny sense and it wouldn’t do to be noticed so quickly. A few bridges across, he watches as the boy drops another coin: this time for an elderly man who is quick to thank in turn.

 

Like this, the child repeats the gestures of kindness to others he passed, until only a few coins remained. The boy stops at a vendor and takes his time to look through a multitude of long hair ribbons before finally choosing one.

 

At length, the boy returns home: to a shack on the edge of the Plate and Sector Five, clearly lovingly maintained, given how gardens of yellow flowers bloomed about in neat rows in their enclosed spaces. Faint streams of sunlight shimmered from overhead, gently illuminating the painted red shingles of the roof and the patches of flowers. Tseng is almost in wonder: with this little light, and the general polluted air about Midgar, how could so many flowers bloom and so vibrantly here?

 

It wasn’t until a girl steps from the house – flowing red-brown hair and shining green eyes, that Tseng realizes. The last he had seen her, half a decade ago, the girl was already growing into the image of her now departed mother. He holds his breath as the boy rushes to the girl’s arms: so much laughter and brightness fills the air, and the boy eagerly reaches up to weave the ribbon into the girl’s lightly wavy hair.

 

The pounding in his chest grows as the fair-haired boy had tied the ribbon in all wrong and there was a soft cry of dismay as the ribbon slips free from a clumsy knot.

 

Tseng had found _the_ target. But all he sees is two innocent children in their play.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anything, Aerith's street-smart and as honorable mention addition to Elmyra's family and the Plate residents, Cloud learns to barter. See everyone in April!


End file.
